They Won't Know
by Votre Accueil
Summary: L and Mello and Matt are gone. But that's okay because Near is still here. And there are still children at Wammy's house, growing, fighting, competing. Forming a new cycle without knowing the old. [Spoilers for the end of the series]


_Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note._

_Spoilers for: Real Names and People Who Die. Also, this is a wonderfully sentimental fic because I just finished the series. I'd like to say this isn't supposed to be good, or touching or amazing. It's just a story. Please don't judge it too harshly._

Mello wants to be number one. That's all he wants-just to be able to call himself better than Near, better than L. He wants to beat Kira and he wants to save the world.

He doesn't of course; his life ends incognito and when his final breath is gone, two of the four people who give a damn are already dead. Mello is dead and the world he wanted to save doesn't care.

Near didn't cry when L died, and he doesn't when Mello does either. He sits among his toys and railroad tracks and turns Mello's finger puppet face down on the carpet, where he lies in front of the Kira figure.

"You lose." He tells his ex-rival. Mello-puppet doesn't answer and that bothers Near more he is used too.

Matt knows he will die. He knows it from the moment he answers the phone and Mello is on the other line, his wheezy voice thick with blood and pain. He knows it from the moment he says yes, from when he sits beside Mello as he tosses and turns and rages at the world, at Kira, at himself, at Matt. When he changes Mello's bandages, and when he lies on the floor, his thumbs flickering over his game controller he can feel his death hanging on his arm like some gruesome lover. He knows it then.

Mello and Near and Matt are all little boys inside, but if they grow up to be killers, if they grow up to lie and cheat and feel nothing at all, no one blames them. They were raised under a black ceiling, raised to compete and fight and claw their way to the top. Maybe Mello would have burned out any life he lived, maybe Matt would have sacrificed himself on any other path, maybe Near would always be a small boy in too big pajamas who doesn't talk.

But if under another sun, Mihael Kheel is _winning_. If under another sun Mail Jeevas sits in his apartment and plays games and doesn't care for anything else. If under another sun Near talks of other things than criminal investigations and justice and people call him Nate River.

But they aren't and Mello and Matt are dead. Near is the only one left.

Still-Wammy's House is in England and kids are being raised under a black ceiling, raised to compete and fight and claw their way to the top of the heap. Raised to idolize a man called L, a man with scruffy white hair, a man who sits oddly and plays with toys. They won't know there was another man called that once, and they won't know that the man they call L is only a half successor to that name.

They won't know that one of them is sleeping in the same bed a boy with blond hair slept in once, a boy who died with his truck driven into the side of a church and a rosary clutched in his hand.

They won't know that the couch where they lay sprawled was once the place where a boy would sit and play his video games all day, every day.

They won't know that Near was here once upon a time. All they will know is that he is smart and strong, that he solves cases no one else can. All they know is that he is selecting one of them to be his successor.

And when Near interviews the two boys tied for top of the class, he does not wonder what stories they have, who they will grow to be and what the pray for, what they dream for. He does not wonder if they idolize him as Mello idolized L. He only looks at grades and personality and suitability.

Because he is L. He was Near once, but that was another time. He was Nate River once, but that is a fairy tale now. He is L, because everything that made him Near is gone. He is L, because every_one_ who made him Near is gone. He is L because Mello is dead and because Matt is gone and because the old L is only a memory in the minds of so few people.

He is L because that is what he was trained to be. And because there is no one else.

_See? A wonderfully sentimental, rambling story. Not everyone's cups of tea, but if it's yours, please enjoy._

_And if you Read, please Review. _


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